​Darwood & Smitty - Chapter 3

The president didn’t have all day to yuck it up, of course, and it wasn’t long before Darwood and Smitty were back on the road, assuming that they could hit their normal route at last. “Now that’s a day to remember,” Darwood declared, kicking his heels up onto the dashboard in front of his seat. “And not just because of the president either. I mean, the prison too. And a tip of 3500, I don’t mind pointing out. It’s a wonder they’re ever able to balance the budget.”

“Well, when you’ve got a world police force that works for practically nothing, that’s one big expense you don’t have to worry about.”

It was a thoughtless comment. So obvious that it didn’t need to be said, and Smitty wasn’t usually thoughtless. “What’s wrong?” Darwood asked him.

Smitty’s eyebrows bobbed upward expressively, as if he were returning from a momentary reverie. “Oh, sorry. It’s just that …. Shoot, Darwood. All my life I’ve known not to trust politicians. Especially a president. But this guy is so on the ball and has taken on the special interests with such a passion … I just can’t figure out his game. What gives?”

Darwood shook his head. “Ok Smitty, I’ve known you a long time, and I know how much you distrust authority. That’s fine. I enjoy a good laugh at your consistency. But this takes it a bit far, don’t you think? The fact is, if you went around and gathered enough signatures, you could run for president too. And if you didn’t notice, the guy ran on a platform that might as well have been yours, restricting special interest influence and restoring integrity to politics. The guy sounds like you, and he got elected. So I guess you could get elected too. Should everyone distrust you if you made it into office?”

“Probably,” said Smitty, “because I don’t know what I’d do when all that power was suddenly in my hands. But you’re missing my point. If I ran on the same platform and looked and spoke like he does, I don’t think I’d ever win office. Why? Because I don’t have the right people pulling my strings. They’d never let me win.”

“Because the vote is rigged, right?”

Smitty stared as if the question was near moronic. “Just about a given. Granted, this guy could somehow be on the level, but let’s say he isn’t. Do we really want to be helping him out?”

Darwood stood from his seat and stretched, then turned and looked back at the packages they had to deliver. He realized, now, that he should have known they had a pick-up. They had only about two-thirds of their usual load, giving them time for the president’s delivery. He wiped his face with both hands, thinking about Smitty’s question. “You know,” he said finally, “some people would just take the 3500 credit tip — every week, mind you — and thank their lucky stars that the president was not only doing what he was supposed to be doing, but that he was a great guy as well. But I don’t guess we can leave it at that, can we?”

“What’s his motivation if he’s on the wrong side?” Smitty asked.

Darwood sighed and collapsed back into his chair. At least they were nearing their delivery area again. “Other special interests,” he said. “But Smitty, he’s doing everything he can to level the playing field — to limit how lobbyists can influence the government and take away government interests in certain companies. He wants to let every business out there compete fairly.”

Smitty rubbed his hands together in excitement. This was exactly up his alley. “And,” he said. “And, who benefits from that?”

Darwood shrugged wearily. “Everyone?”

“No, of course not. We’ll have so-called non-profit watchdogs rising up to make sure that special interests never dig their claws into the government again. And those groups will make billions doing this work.”

Darwood was sliding down in his chair, eyes closed now. “Yes. It would be terrible to have someone making money for that important work.”

“And you’ll have other businesses poised to strike, hiring themselves out to other businesses — the ones with big bucks to spend. They’ll show their clients how to manipulate the system to stand out from the crowd and consistently win the biggest government contracts.”

Darwood ground the base of his palms into his eyes. “Ok. That sounds like marketing firms.”

“And you’ll have others in position to develop the government’s worldwide information database to ensure equal bidding, and of course they’ll be able to rig the system however they want.”

“But they’ll have to bid to get that job, won’t they?”

Smitty’s brain lit up as he finally saw it. “No! They’re the ones pulling the president’s strings right now.”

“And you’re telling me that all the senators and congress people, each with their own special interests, won’t monitor a system like that to make sure it’s not rigged?”

​“Ah! — that’s what they want you to think. You see …” Darwood suddenly let out an audible snore. Smitty stared. “Darwood, what’re you doing?”

Darwood pulled himself back up from his sagging position, where he had nearly collapsed himself onto the floor in protest of Smitty’s theories. “Smitty … do you remember what the president said about your talent for distrust?” Smitty blinked. “It sounds to me that what you’re talking about is good commerce. Giving a boot to special interests opens new needs in the marketplace, and someone’s going to jump at the chance to fill those needs and make a killing from their work. That doesn’t mean they were controlling the president, you know? It doesn’t make them minions of the devil. They’d do the same thing if you booted those interests yourself, and they’re doing it because it makes good business sense.”

Smitty blinked again and stared. “You’re right,” he said at last. “But my god, Darwood … if the president’s on the level, what do I do with that?”

​“Enjoy the good life, my friend. Enjoy the good life,” Darwood assured him as he kicked his heels back up once more. “There will always be someone else to distrust, and if I know you, you’ll find one by the end of the day.” He closed his eyes as Eli drove on.

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